Midnight in the Desert tween Good and Evil
by IRiSEaGLes
Summary: Written for the International Wizarding School Competition 2019. Taken back in time, two wizards find a way to come back to modern civilization - or do they?


The desert was hot, of course it was, it was the bloody desert, the middle of the inhumanly hot Sahara. Today it's hotter than it had been the last few months, though. No amount of clothing was lightweight enough to keep cool. No shade gave any reprieve. No cooling charms even made a slight dip in the sun's oppression. The only thing that can give any semblance of comfort is a cold shower or a swim in the Nile, but one was unlikely to happen, and the other is downright hazardous. The sun beat down on the earth with a viciousness that beguiled the mind at how, at any point in history, humans could have resided here—let alone flourish. The monuments of their existence lay all around: their language and mathematics, their arts and humanities. In today's world, spending time here is miserable even with magic and all the modern accouterments. How did a society thrive so many centuries prior?

One of the other researchers onsite catches his eye, nodding to the box on the ground. A slight nod and the air is filled with the riotous guitar and opening drums of U2's _Vertigo_. The one researcher had dragged the other to a concert, '_Free ticket, mate. Wanna go?'_ and since then the desert sands were rocking to the Irish Muggle band almost daily.

"Except you give me something I can feel!" the pale wizard belts out. Until recently, he never would have given himself to listening to something like this, but now, he sings along. The words ring in his head even without the aid of the music box, they strike a chord in him and how his life has ended him here, of all the holes of Hades.

When the song ends the other, Riley as he's known, turns to his friend, "Ever think you would be singing a Muggle song in the middle of the Egyptian desert?"

Shaking a blond head, "Never. Not in a million lives. It is refreshing, though. I don't see myself going back to England for good, now that the kid is at school."

Riley agrees. He may be eight years the senior, but they both know of the hauntings that lay back home for the younger man. He lost so much: his name and any good reputation that it may hold, his parents, and a few years prior, his wife. All he has left there is his son, who spends most of the year at the wizarding school. This job is a saving grace for the wizard, the research closes down every year about the same time his son's school is out and starts back up a week after his return.

Shaking the stray locks that have escaped his ashen 'man bun', Riley looks towards his friend and comrade, "How much longer until his break?" He is pensive of the answer to his question; he may not have the vast wealth that the younger wizard has at his disposal, so this job is more important to him, at least financially.

"Four weeks. So we are here for at least three more. His aunt is picking him up from school this year, if we run over, which it looks like. I can't wait to break the curse on this last room and see what is inside." He doesn't look up from the slab that he examines with the thoughtfulness of a true scholar.

Riley was always the more scholarly of the two though, as he looks at the drawings adorning the archway—the bab—above, "Thanks be to Merlin for that. It is getting too hot to work outside much longer." He doesn't mean it though, he would work through the year just for the intellectual stimulation if given the chance. "Why aren't you picking him up?"

"His aunt is complaining and, honestly, I doubt that we will be able to close this off before the end of the season. I convinced her to take Scorpius to France for a bit, just so that I am sure that this site is protected properly." His eyes screw up under his shaded reading glasses, his voice low and serious, "What does that bab say?"

Looking back at his partner, Riley suddenly is struck with a sense of terror just from the tone in his partner's voice and the years of working alongside the man. "What are you not saying, Malfoy?"

Draco Malfoy looks at his teammate, pointing his wand at the archway in front of Riley, "Aparecium." The two wizards look up as a new set of hieroglyphics appears before them. "Those look about as friendly as the ones here."

"What do you mean?" Riley leaves his post and joins Malfoy as they squat in front of a tablet. "Not your usual 'death by having your entrails burned and fed to the crocodiles' curse?"

"I was still partial to the assault by donkey curse. I was grateful it didn't come to fruition though. It would have been bad for you, mate." Looking back down at the tablet, the two study it intensely. "But no, this one has a lot to do with being enslaved in this life and the next. As someone who served a man who called himself Lord before, I never want to be a corvee' to another."

"Always thought you'd be partial to the 'the scorpion against you on land' since you named your kid Scorpius," Riley mutters, but still very audible, to his mate. "Enslavement isn't that odd though. It isn't like you're not existing."

"No, this is different. It feels more magical. More like time travel. More," for the first time, the two sets of eyes fell on the still closed door just beyond the archway, "sinister in some ways."

They both get up from their semi-seated position, and as if under the Imperius Curse, walk the few steps to the door and push.

_The night is full of holes 'cause bullets rip the sky of ink with gold._

The spinning and falling feeling that the two experienced gave them both a sense of vertigo similar to a wizard's first experience with Apparition but tenfold. They both landed ungracefully on the ground, trying desperately not to see their breakfast or lunch again. Riley turns to his partner, eyes wide at the vision before him. There, on the ground, was not the Draco Malfoy he knew, but rather a dark-skinned man with jet black hair cut close to the scalp and deep, indigo colored eyes.

"What the bloody—Riley is that you?" Malfoy's eyes bulge out at the sight before him. Previously, Riley looked lanky with ashen brown hair and nondescript hazel eyes. Now the man before him, dressed in just a linen loincloth, was just as tall but with a toned build, darker complexion, short hair that was blue-black in color and golden, cat-like eyes. He takes in his own appearance; he too had the much darker tone to his skin, but that was covered much more in fine linens and jewels, he seemed to have also gained some body mass, his chest resembled something akin to a professional Quidditch Beater's body. "Ri, tell me that is you. I don't think I could handle this alone."

The other man blinked a few times before nodding, "Yeah, Malfoy, it's me." His voice was shaky, uncertain.

"I know mate, this is… Oh hell, how are we going to get home?" Malfoy interjects with a touch of fear to his words. "Scorpius, I… I can't leave him alone."

"I know. We will find a way. But while we are here, why don't we take a look to learn first hand about what we can only speculate on daily?" Riley is drawn in, pulled by some force out of his control further into the dimly lit tomb.

Malfoy looks over at his friend before looking back down the cavernous room before them. A grumbled, "Yeah, sure," seeps out his mouth before he too is pulled deeper into the ornate room ahead. "Specialis Revelio," he says as the walls are lined with gifts befitting the pharaoh. The brightly colored paintings adorned the walls that no eye has seen in thousands of years.

When they vacate the tomb after traversing the multitude of maze-like corridors, they are met with swarms of people paying homage to them. "I have a feeling we are not in Kansas anymore," Riley chimes.

_Your eyes are wide and though your soul, it can't be bought._

The two remain in a sense of limbo, walking through the history that they have devoted so many years to studying. Malfoy is revered as a god on Earth, whereas Riley is made to be Malfoy's personal servant. Riley never leaves the side of his king, except in the most private of times, and only then to clean up any messes that remain behind.

The two wander through the entirety of the kingdom, both the upper and lower parts of Egypt. They travel by caravan and by barque. Malfoy is treated as the son of Ra, and every comfort and luxury is at his disposal. They learn and memorize the customs, the language, the art, and the importance of the deities in the daily life of every level of person in the kingdom. When they want to not be understood by those around them, they revert to their native English, which makes the priests and other members of the hierarchy believe that Riley has a special 'magical' connection to the pharaoh.

They keep coming back to the pyramid, the tomb of the pharaoh—in this case, Malfoy—over and over trying to find a way home. They study the Book of the Dead, hoping beyond hope that in its papyrus pages lay some ancient untouched magic. The corvee' watch in awe and wonderment as the two men enter the sacred site day upon day, hoping that they find some magic to bring fertility and prosperity to the lands.

"A pair shall enter, leaving half themselves behind. Never to be whole. Never to be reunited." The ominous words hung heavily in the air between the friends.

"Shit, that sounds like…" the truth abruptly smacks Riley in the face.

"One of us has to remain; only one can return." Malfoy is grim at the idea; how could he possibly leave his son behind and alone? Sure he has his aunt, but the rest of his family is non-existent.

"You stay," Riley says hopefully. "You're a king, a god, here. I will watch Scorpius, and he's almost of age. He's a strong young man. He has his aunt," Riley just verbalized the thoughts Malfoy had not a moment ago. "Here I am nothing, I am just a servant to the king. I mean, if it were you, that's one thing. But who knows who will be in charge if you leave." His verbal diarrhea was painful to hear. The only other part that engages Malfoy's brain is, "just leave details on what life is like. Preferably in English." There is a hollow chuckle, one that only now Malfoy can truly identify with.

"How is this even supposed to work?" the pharaoh kneels down to study the hieroglyphs in the Book of the Dead for what feels like the hundredth time. "Merlin, I wish I had my glasses," he rubs his straining eyes. Studying the markings, he realizes that the two need to hold one of the sacred canopic jars—Hapy, who protected the lungs—when entering the antechamber to the room that transported them to this time. "I really wish that we could rewrite history and explain the importance of the brain and heart in the body."

"Do it Malfoy. You have the utmost power here." The lights adorning the walls dimmed, and both the wizards look upwards. "Methinks, it is time to revert to our non-native tongue."

Malfoy only nods as he rises and greets the newest addition, the woman that will be queen upon her conception of the next pharaoh, with a slight bow in her direction and a knee from Riley, who is blatantly ignored. "You are needed," her voice is quiet but strong, and through the weeks here, he understands not only her words in the foreign tongue to him but also the meaning behind them. It is his duty to produce the next heir. It still boggles his brain to think that Scorpius may be related to the pharaohs in a distant, round-a-bout sort of way.

"Let me finish here," the words roll off his tongue as he leans and kisses his would-be-bride on the cheek. She nods and quickly flees their chamber. Turning back to Riley, "It has to be tonight. From everything I read, this is the optimal time. Gather what we need, our clothes, and anything else you think would be of great scholarly importance. Meet me here at dusk."

"Yes, my king," there is snark in his tone, playful but cutting at the same time. This time they have been in the ancient land and time has not been good to Riley, as much as Malfoy has tried. He has been forced to wash Malfoy's feet, to care to his every need, and worse. There was the incident where Riley was nearly poisoned because he was allergic to some of the food that was served Malfoy, but the pharaoh knew what was needed to heal his most prized corvee'. "I will also bring all the notes we have gathered."

Malfoy nods before leaving to bed the woman in hopes to produce an heir to the dynasty, something that has not seemed to change in millennia of pure blooded elite.

_Lights go down, it's dark, The jungle is your head, can't rule your heart._

When the sun falls below the sandy horizon, Malfoy escapes his bedchamber and makes his way to the anteroom to meet his friend. On his way, he devises a plan, one that will bring him home to his son, and hopefully give Riley the respect that he deserves in this world. It will take the speed of a seeker, which luckily his skills are still up to par due to his constant practicing with his son during holidays. It will take the cunning of a Slytherin, again something in his favor over his Ravenclaw friend. The uraeus that adorned him furthered his snake-like manipulation and trickery. The one thing not in his favor was the courage that it would take to move forward and not look back.

Another glance at his attire, specifically the ankh around his neck holding new meaning for him at the moment, and he knows what he _should _do—send Riley back—is in direct conflict with what he _will _do—send himself home. He holds the Eye of Horus, the symbol of magic and royalty, that he will pass to Riley in a slip for the canopic jar that will bring him home. That will at least ensure that Riley will be given honor here and no longer be subject to removing the pharaoh's chamber pot. His magic will give him the authority to become a priest, and if the letter that Malfoy penned helped, Riley would be able to adequately fake his death.

The irony of the whole matter is that the tomb that they were excavating would be the one Malfoy was buried in—in a different lifetime.

Upon entering the chamber, he spied Riley pacing on the opposite side of the expansive room. He knew that he was planning on how to get around anything that Malfoy will throw at him: any tricks, any schemes, any subterfuge will have to be quashed. The problem Riley faced was that he had no idea how simplistic Malfoy's scheme was. It would be a simple sleight of hand, something that even the novice magicians here could see coming. The beauty was in the simplicity though.

"Are you ready, Riley? Ready to go home?" Riley nods ever so slightly. "Good," Malfoy continues, "I have a list of things that you will need to have to take care of Scorpius—mostly contacts at the Ministry, his godparents, etc. Also, there is a directive on file at the Ministry that if anything happens to me, everything shall be granted to Scorpius upon his twenty-first birthday." Riley's eyes are hollow, missing the light and sparkle that normally comes with a find or in this case—going home from a find. "If there is anything missing, contact his aunt, Daphne. She knows practically everything."

Another slight nod and Riley looks up, "So I am really going home? No Slytherin-like tricks up your sleeve?"

Malfoy doesn't answer, lying would be futile at this point. He knows. They both know deep down. Malfoy isn't staying, but Riley doesn't want to acknowledge the fact yet.

Holding out the piece of ancient parchment that holds the instructions and the Eye of Horus, Riley grabs for it as Malfoy slips between him and the jar that will bring him home. As Riley's fingers graze the jar, Malfoy thrusts the package into his hand and pushes off.

Falling back through the false bab—or doorway—into the vertigo-inducing chasm. The chasm that will bring him home.

_I can feel._

* * *

Song lyrics attributed to U2 "_Vertigo_" 2004 written by Adam Clayton / David Evans / Paul Hewson / Laurence Mullen

* * *

School: Hogwarts  
Year: 6

Prompt 1: Egyptian tombs/pyramids  
Prompt 2: [word] vertigo

Word count: 2861


End file.
